Hush, Hush
by C.K.Maple
Summary: "It's my fault and it took me 35 years to realize that." Lies and redemption reunited Emily "Dolly" Grey with her past, and now the consequences are catching up. Bucky Barnes/OC.
1. Beginnings

**Агент** **.**

 _Heal him_ _ **now.**_ _We require him back out in the field._

 _――'_ he's bleeding too much.' **SAVE HIM.**

 _ **NOW!**_

 _Crimson spilt from the agent's lips and torso, stains spread on the grey nylon-cotton material. Adrenaline surged, the woman, having put her hair up in a low tie, slapped on a pair of dyed medical gloves. TERROR rippled through her torso, but perfectly still, coordinated, and proficient hands went to work. She KNEW he was going to die - The amount of blood flowing out, the forgotten look in eyes, lungs struggling to fill, it was all evidence._

 _But denying an order was not an option._

 _ **She had to do her job.**_

 _The woman retracted from the agent as chunks of flesh splattered on the ground in front of him, then regained her concentration, returning to blocking the exit wounds. Remove the bullets. Control the bleeding. CLOSE THEM._

"сосредоточить внимание на мой голос." Focus on my voice. _She repeated this in a strained voice, over the grunts and muffled screams of the victim._

 _'Don't MOVE. You'll be OKAY.'_

 _LIES_ _ _――__ _ _ _―__ LIES to keep the victim from panic. _― _But perhaps he already knew of his fate. He was letting go._

 _..._

 _Medic-... ...Vicious trembling ceased into a heavy weight falling forward onto the woman's form. Slick with sweat and blood, she pressed her hands onto the man's chest, keeping him from pressing on her too far. Slowly, the body made its way to the side, a crunching limp echoing on the floor._

 _… She had_ _ **failed.**_

 _H――_

 _The commanders hovering over her met with DANGEROUS eyes. Before she could say anything else, one swung at—_

* * *

Emily Grey felt a gentle shake on her right forearm, the opposite of what her body SCREAMED _――_ it had screamed an attack was coming, but instead, it was a concerning hold of her arm. Gentle, but firm. The touch tore down the walls blocking her from reality, tore down the episode she had walked into. She was here, in the present. Enough in the present, at least, to recognize the voice that made its way to her ear. Almost forcibly she blinked, blinked enough to erase the remnants of fiction remaining; she stared at her crossed arms, then her lap that remained seated in the hard wooden chair lined with old carpet like felt. The pounding sensation filling her throat refused to cease, but she had to push through it— she swallowed, and looked up at the source of the voice.

"... Hey, Dolly, you here or are you going to keep giving me the cold shoulder?" Emily hated her name, and everyone at her place of work, especially Clint Barton, knew of that matter. She was Dolly Grey to everyone.

Dolly stared at the blond archer, noticing the concerned features marking his eyebrows and lines surrounding his eyes. He looked so much older that way. This look shining from his face meant she was not in a stable state. She had lingered, but combated it with a soft smile curling at the ends of her lips.

"The concerning look doesn't quite suit your personality, Feathers."

 _Change the subject._

"Enough with the lame nicknames already, I deserve something cooler to equally represent my personality."

 _Success._

"I'm an engineer and a nurse, not a nickname professional!" To keep the previous topic at a distance, Dolly opted for the nickname subject, all while shifting out of the uncomfortable wooden chair to stretch her long torso and thighs— they had been sitting there for an hour, waiting for Nick Fury's "calling" as Clint put it. It had better be urgent; Dolly was pulled from her lab, separated from her monitoring system project, which only need a few tweaks before testing phase.

"What could he possibly want that he couldn't just phone in? It's been an ho-"

"What I could possibly _want_ is to _show_ you something you've wanted to see your entire time here at SHIELD, Agent Grey." In his baldness and usual level of leather and black, Nicholas Fury stepped from his office, giving Dolly a pointed look with his eye before nodding toward the room.

"Barton, you'll want to come in too. With how fidgety Agent Grey is on a daily basis, who knows what'll happen."

"With how fidgety I...? What's that supposed to mean?" Dolly followed into the director's office with Barton close behind her, preparing for the worst. Thoughts rolled through her mind, from the best news in the world, to the worst. _Was she compromised? Was she found out-? Did someone die? Did――――_

"―― _is this really necessar――"_

She froze, a heavy weight forming in the bottom of her stomach. The pounding of her heart returned, beating against her frame, when it had left only moments before. Was this a _joke? Was she still dreaming?_ Her eyes looked over the figure that stopped mid-sentence at the sight of her, their eyes locking. Her focus became blurred, perhaps because of the tears pricking the ends of her eyes.

"... Steve?"

"―― _Dolly?"_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is my first Marvel fanfiction, and I'm just going right into it, since this is a fic primarily focused on Bucky Barnes, not Steve Rogers. The next chapter is more about introducing Dolly, her involvement with SHIELD, and her relationship with Steve. First impressions are appreciated!


	2. An Old Friend

_"You can't always be STRONG, but you can always BE BRAVE."_

* * *

" _You know going into a fight and triggering an asthma attack is not the way to do it, silly!" The woman sighed with a soft smile upon her lips. She knew there was no need to give Steve a reminder, the scrawny boy never stood down from a fight. That's why BUCKY and SHE was there._

 _All she got in response was a sheep-looking smile and shrug of the shoulders, followed by a wince. PAIN. Why he continued this, she hadn't a clue. His oxygen levels couldn't support it._

―― _He just never stood down from a bully._

 _Clicking her tongue, Dolly gently took the blond's frail jaw and turned the split lip toward her. Alcohol met open wound, and as such, Dolly kept hold on Steve's jaw a little more to prevent him from retracting away. Allow the wound to CLEANSE._

" _I know, I know. It hurts."_

" _It's nothing, I had him on the ropes!" Steve spluttered through his lips, hardly able by the way Dolly held his face._

" _Sure, sure." A smile, SENTIMENT. Dolly let go of his jaw once the lip was cleaned. "Breathe for me, 'sport. Four seconds. Hold it for seven seconds."_

 _One second, two second… Four seconds._ _ **HOLD.**_

 _Dolly counted aloud for him as she got up from the lower stool she sat on, rounding to Steve's back to massage the injured right shoulder. He let out a little breath. Dolly stopped. Allow him to BREATHE OUT. He breathed out for eight seconds before she continued massaging the sore muscles making up her upper right back._

 _She took care of him just as he took care of her._

"… _So, what's this about trying to get into the Army again?"_

"― _Bucky told you?"_

" _Of course he did! We can't let you keep lying through your teeth just to get in; what if they catch you?"_

" _They won_ _―… Dolly, there are men out there laying down their lives. I got not right to do any less._

 _She sighed. Unlike Bucky, she knew when to let it go._

" _...Just don't go off doing something reckless and leaving me and Bucky here all alone."_

" _I promise."_

* * *

The wild heartbeat slamming against her chest only increased the fear behind the mask of shock. Her heart ACHED to go to him, reunite with her past; her head SCREAMED to run. Run, _refuse_ the attachment, hide in her lair. Her fingers twitched and her lips remained separated as an attempt to speak came. _Nothing._ This was a joke; he'd only be taken away from her AGAIN. She couldn't lose another friend, not after _everything._

Barton from behind noticed the way her legs shook, the way her left foot itched toward the door's direction ever so slightly. He knew. He knew, and he'd allow it—the hawk knew when to let things happen, regardless of orders.

She turned and escaped the office as if her breath depended on it. Dolly was out of the office fast enough she failed to hear Steve speaking out to her.

Steve watched as the door clicked shut, a heavy weight pressuring on his chest; why she had run away, he hadn't a clue. His gaze reverted from the door to the blond standing close to it. He was unfamiliar, but by the way he let Dolly go and refused to stop her, he got the feeling the both of them were friends in one shape or form. The man returned Steve's gaze, then signaled toward the door for both of them to exit. Best take care of this without Fury.

They found themselves walking toward the elevator, by Barton's lead.

"I don't believe we've met."

"Clint Barton. Friend of Dolly's, and one of the few that actually know of her little fun fact."

So _he knew. He knew of their past._

Steve nodded, shifting his weight onto one leg as they entered the elevator and pressed for LEVEL B3.

"That's good to know. The name's Steve Rogers."

"Captain America _in the flesh..._ Coulson will _**love**_ you." He paused with a grin. "Cut the chit-chat, though. If you want to find Doll, she's probably escaped to her secret lair. Likes to tinker with her projects to keep her from her problems."

 _Secret lair?_ Was she some sort of magician, now? Steve was sure nurses stayed in the hospital wing, not in the underground levels. His brows furrowed at the thought, but he took the information anyway; Clint was more aware of the situation in this time than he was, after all.

"Oh, and down the hall is a quick convenient store and bakery for the people down in these levels. Bring a sweet dinner roll to Lab B11." The elevator stopped with a low _Ding!_ Signaling the arrival to B3, the doors sliding open with a _whoosh_ and ease. Clint waved Steve off, letting him go off on his own, and disappeared with the elevator doors.

Luckily, there had been one main corridor, stark white and lingering with the smell of rubbing alcohol and baking yeast. Steve wandered through, shifting his gaze left to right, left to right. _Storage closet, Lab B01… Lab B05… CONVENIENCE._

Glass doors slid open at the motion Steve created in front of it, signaling a small beep to alert the cashier of the entering guest. That was EASY enough. The super soldier wandered in, ignored the look of complete 'aw' the cashier – probably in his early 20's – gave. Following the smell of baked goods, he found the corner filled with a variety of goods from French bread loafs, vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, donuts, and sweet dinner rolls. BINGO.

 **Mission:** _sweet dinner roll_ , complete. He didn't even have to pay, the cashier just spat out "it's free!" after stuttering for at least ten seconds. Each time someone had a reaction like that, Steve couldn't help but run red in the face in embarrassment. Initially, the soldier had the intention to ask him where lab B11 was, since after the store was a fork in the corridor, however, would probably only receive stuttering in return.

He'd just go based on intuition.

… _Not a good idea._

The captain went left. _Wrong way._ Ended up walking into B11 **L** , an entirely different research lab involving the development of mutated lizards. Fortunately, the long-haired, German scientist, after laughing hysterically at Steve's mistake, told him the right path to set on.

Back to stage one. Go right— _well,_ forward. Left at the small staircase sitting at the end of the hall, leading down by three steps to the door with the label B11 and a seemingly _cute_ bear smiling and sitting next to the last 1. Steve couldn't help but smile, it was _so her._

Grasping the handle to slide the lab door open, Steve slowly opened it and slid past once he got enough space for his large frame. Upon entering the lab, he noticed many tables, mechanical pieces, robots, and chemicals littered around the room. Chemicals sat on one table adjacent to the near wall on his left, with labels written in sharpie and some merely carved into the bottle with whatever was available at the time. Two other tables sitting in the middle of the lab were covered either in half-way build mechanical pieces, prosthetic pieces such as feet or hands, or small robots that seemed to have been used to help.

At the very far table at the opposite side of the lab, Steve saw the owner of the lab hunched over and focused on the detailed make-up of… a clock? Steve walked up, closer, and noticed it was, indeed, a clock. What was more important, however, was the worker, Dolly Grey, who either refused to notice him or in fact did not recognize his arrival.

He looked around for a chair, found one behind him, and pulled it up beside Dolly and sat down. And waited.

He waited for a while.

And finally, Dolly looked up at him and stared. Stared at the beautiful shining blue in his eyes, the way his blond hair flipped to the right, but one cow-lick wanted to go the other way. His big eyebrows. Oh, and his dumb, sad smile. It broke her concentration; it broke her attempt to get back together after her escape from Fury's office.

Wanting to escape again, Dolly shifted in her chair, however stopped once Steve gave her a pleading look and held out a sweet dinner roll to her. _Dammit. Those eyes and the fucking bread—they're both too nice to resist._

A defeated glare, shimmering with a playful attitude, appeared on her features as she snatched the roll and got comfortable in her chair to prepare herself. Prepare herself for the questions—his questions and hers. Him being in her life again. Having someone to relate to that wasn't on their deathbed. Her HEART was starting to **OVERRULE** her head.

Before speaking, Dolly took all of Steve's look in—he looked like he did before he 'died'. Before he left _._ Healthy, young. Reckless, most likely. And kind. He waited, he still hadn't said a word, he just waited for her to start. She couldn't ask for more.

A small snort of a laugh escaped her nose before she swallowed and let out in a soft voice, "You're still taller than me."

"And you're still smarter than me." Steve's voice was low, almost a whisper.

Silence, only the ticking of her black cat wrist watch filling the air… Five minutes, six.

―― "… What happened? Then."

The ICE. RED SKULL. HYDRA. She had known none of it, just that STEVE ROGERS saved New York City and sacrificed his own life to do so, landing in the ocean, lost forever.

He told her. The basics, the details, Hydra. How he got in the ice. How SHIELD found him. Got him **OUT** of the ice.

Dolly gave a sad smile, attempting to lift the air. Here he was, cheating death, how could there not be at least some happiness involved. "But here you are. Cheating death, sounds like pure American freedom to me… ―So, how long have you been out?"

Steve let out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling covered in phosphorescent stars that lit up in the dark, and counted the months he's taken to adjusting to living in the 21st century. "About eight months."

"— _Eight months?"_ She was going to kick it to Fury. Keeping it from her _this long?_ Oh hell, like that was going to fly. She took in a breath, held it as her lips formed into a straight line, then let it out as she let go of the initial anger—she would not pull it out on her friend. It was going to be for Fury.

"Yeah." Steve's brows furrowed as he looked at her, _really_ looked at her. Her eyes, golden brown and young as ever, and her face as young as he could remember her to be. It was if she had been frozen along with him, left to live through the ages and reunite with him here. All they needed was Bucky—but that wouldn't be happening. "You're still that young nurse who always patched me and Buck up. How are you still real?"

An almost sick chuckle escaped from Dolly's lips as she shook her head and shifted in her seat. She had finished her dinner roll. "That's not a question you want answered, Rogers." She paused, retracing her steps. … [ _AVOID CONFLICT.]_ A kick in her gut made her splutter out a, 'I'm kidding' before continuing.

"I joined SHIELD once you and Bucky were KIA. They were doing some projects, and well, I volunteered. I'm like you, but not super soldier strong. Still a weenie." She shrugged, as if not a big deal, however internally cringed at the following question that escaped from Steve's lips. ( STOP ASKING QUESTIONS. )

"What did you do? I mean…" he looked around at all of the prosthetics, the machinery, the computers. "Clearly you weren't _just_ a nurse."

"Since I had nursing background, Stark wanted me to learn some engineering to combine the two. Eventually, the whole 'Biomedical engineer' occupation showed up in the education system, and that's what they labeled me as. Now a-days that's what I do. I'm an engineer and nurse for SHIELD – I go either ways, depending on what's needed or what Fury wants me to be doing. … Definitely an improvement from our time. Women actually _do things now."_ Dolly let out a smile, shifting in her swirling chair, then dividing the subject to the clock she was working on. She pointed to it, the gears and belts in the back that she was tinkering with, fixing up.

"One of the agents around here has a thing for clocks. He wanted me to fix it, so I guess I do that, too."

So much had happened. He missed out on so much. His dance with Peggy. Stark and his life. Dolly and her involvement with SHIELD. _Peggy._ And here he was, at the end of that trail of time, starting a new one where he knew almost nothing about today's day in age. How the internet worked, what the internet even _was._ What Star Trek was, or what this thing about smart phones was. People didn't use home phones, apparently.

"… It's hard to get used to everything, huh?" Steve took out a small notebook from his back pant pocket, showing it to Dolly without flipping through it. "It's like I'm learning how to walk all over again, writing notes and words every day."

"It's hard, even when you grow through it all. It's lonely, too. But even when you can't always be strong, you can always be brave and try the new things out."

"Will you teach me the ropes?"

"Of course, silly."

He looked up at her, noticing another change with the century. Instead of leaving her bob and curls down, Dolly had her hair up in a small tie in the back with her bangs straightened and split down the middle to stay out of her face. It was different than the 40's. When she had her curled bob styles, the styles Bucky always swooned over when she walked in the door.

"You changed your hair style."

That was a change of topic. Dolly paid no mind to it, and habitually touched the back of her head out of embarrassment. Her face flushed a light pink.

"Eh, it's too get in with today. Not many people really do those _old_ hairstyles anymore. I just, well—I just blend in with the Today, I guess. And keeping my hair out of the way helps me from losing a chunk to winding gears or machines."

"I like it. It's… new."

Dolly muttered a quick thank you before taking another moment to stare at Steve. He had SADNESS in him, a SADNESS that came with the unknown world he had entered. His friends, dead. His life, gone. The war, over. They had won. And here, suddenly, shoved into the world of Dolly Grey, again.

And then she remembered.

"…You broke your promise, Rogers."

Steve let out an automated chuckle at the comment –he had forgotten about those words, and it came hitting him just as the ocean had when he fell through the ice. She held it to him, and she wouldn't let it go.

"But I came back, didn't I?"

"True that, true that."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hope everyone enjoyed some Steve and some background—reviews are appreciated!

 **Chapter 3 –** A Brand New World

"Seriously? You've been around eight months and no one told you that you _just had_ to try this? You've been neglected, Steve."


	3. A Brand New World

" _Life is either a DARING adventure or NOTHING at all."_

* * *

" _Carnival, carnival! Hurry, hurry!" The moment that commercial on the television came on in the local store, Coney Island Fun Park, Bucky just_ _ **had**_ _to go; all the people go! The park hosted over a million people a day, and the group still hadn't joined to be a part of it. A smile beamed on his lips every time the park was mentioned: The Wonder Wheel, Steeplechase's Parachute ride, the El Dorado Carousel, and of course, The Famous Cyclone. Only a fantasy at that._

 _Until finally, the three—Steve, Bucky, and Dolly—all had change to go in._

— _Because forget the hot dog stand._

 _The ocean breeze was fresh in the summer's day, cooling down Bucky through his white t-shirt and short shorts, Steve through his plaid and khakis, and Dolly through her red-floral patterned dress. The day was divine, and perfect for a trip up in the Steeplechase's Parachute ride, if they had had the money—Bucky was saving for that special trip with Dolly for a sunset on a Friday evening. Steve thought of the idea. At first it sounded CHEESY, however, with the grin on the dame's face when she saw the sunset each and every night, it may be a perfect ride._

 _Today was dedicated to The Cyclone, the belly of the beast, one they HAD to ride. The impending thrill shook Bucky through his form, only pumping up his excitement more. They were walking toward the ride's line, which was long as per usual, but well worth the wait._

" _Can you believe it? We're going to ride it!" Bucky's voice was tremulous, hardly steady with the amount of excitement he had, a dramatic contrast to Steve, who walked on the other side of Dolly, not quite sure about it._

 _Would he survive?_

" _I'm not so sure, guys. Maybe you guys should go without me." Steve's voice just as tremulous, although dripping of FEAR rather than excitement. ANXIETY grew larger as the line grew smaller. He stared up at the enormous wooden roller coaster, following the train of people whipping by and diving for the Earth below, screaming in joy—well, it sounded quite like death to the scrawny blond. The ride was a giant. It was a monster, and it was_ _ **fast.**_

 _Dolly looked over at Steve with a shy sign of a smile, nudged the side of his arm, and gave a playful giggle at the look on Steve's face: pure nerves and impending doom. Surely just the thought of getting on would make him vomit at this point. Dolly, on the other hand, was nervous, however thrilled at the chance to get her adrenaline running in a different fashion other than tending to patients. A day with FRIENDS on a fun carnival ride was perfection._

" _Don't worry, Steve. Come on, Bucky and I will hold your hands if you want to!" Bucky agreed with a hum, more absorbed in the anticipation as the line dwindled down to the last group of people which included them._

 _Steve knew Bucky wanted to ride the Cyclone, he'd been telling Dolly and him for weeks, if not months! He also knew he wanted Dolly and him_ _ **both**_ _to ride it with him—however, there was always a CHOICE._

 _Always a choice to make, whether to go with the group or stay back._

… " _Okay, I'll go." He managed to get a smile out, shifting to get himself between Dolly and Bucky in preparation for the thrilling adventure. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad. They would be seated securely, and not in the back, right?_

 _Wrong._

 _As their group of people got into the carts, Steve quickly realized that they were going to end in the last car in the back. His grip on Bucky and Dolly's hand tightened at the thought of whipping out of the coaster, however, it was too late, for the bars LATCHED onto the secure position and was ready for TAKE OFF. Dolly shivered in excitement, raising her free hand to wave at the men operating the ride as the coaster train made its way to move up to START the adventure. Bucky was all grins, looking at both Steve and Dolly one last moment before the cars would finish the travel up the hill._

" _You ready? We're riding the Cyclone!"_

" _I do— "_

 _The train stopped at the top of the hill, HUNG for a moment, and ROLLED downhill. The speed picked up, the yells of the people increased as they went down to the Earth below, whipping around to the next uphill. Steve held on to his life, gripped onto Dolly's and Bucky's hands and tucking his head under his chin—he dared NOT look up. At the corner, as the train whipped around the corner, Steve felt himself slide into Bucky's form, creating a higher level of nerves for him—what if he FELL out?_

 _A faster uphill climb than the first, slower than downhill, however just as terrifying. Not for either Bucky or Dolly, the two were yelling with the crowd, holding up their free hands to go with the wind and train._

 _Up, down, up. Again and again._

 _Finally, the ride came to a slow._

 _Dolly climbed out first, helped Steve out, followed by a laughing Bucky; Bucky skipped out of the ride's center, then onto the stained wooden panels of the main carnival area, revealing the rest of the park they had to their backs until now. Dolly came up by him with a grin, wrapped her arm around his, and held on as he led the group to sit. Steve was behind them, hardly able to stand._

 _ **Sickness.**_

 _Sickness urged up from the depths of his stomach, ACID bubbling up from his throat, and his body throbbing from the fear that lingered in his veins. From the corner of her eyes, Dolly noticed, stopping Bucky and looking at their blond friend._

" _You feelin' okay, Steve?" Bucky's eyes glazed with concern as Dolly realized he needed to sit—he was going to let out all over, and fast._

 _The two went on either side of him, Dolly directing them to a bench with a silver lidded trash can nearby, where they attempted to sit him down. The sickness didn't stay DOWN._

 _Steve struggled out of his friends gripped, thrown his body over the trash after ripping off the lid, and let out the inside of his stomach into the trash bag. The acid on his lips was uncomfortable, and the comfort rubs on his back didn't seem to make it any better. Through blurred hearing as he let out all his stomach held, he heard voices of comfort from both feminine and masculine voices._

'You alright, Steve? We won't do this again. Take your time.'

 _Bucky and Dolly waited until finally, they all sat down. They sat, left to right: Bucky, Dolly, Steve (nearest the trash can)._

" _So, how was it?" Dolly looked over at Bucky, then Steve, with a playful smile._

" _Best ride ever." Bucky leaned onto Dolly's side._

" _Most exciting time of my life." Steve let out an exhausted chuckle._

" _Want to go sit on the beach?"_

 _They all agreed._

* * *

In the 1930s, craze occurred with the first coin-operated pinball machine. This. _**This.**_ This was a fantasy, rainbow lights, checkered carpet, and the large center that had the words 'WIN!' in bold at the top of the banner hanging. Arcade games from pinball machines, Jurassic Park simulators, Candy Crush, and Dance-Dance Revolution littered the arcade center that Steve Rogers and Dolly Grey stepped foot in. Dolly beamed at Steve, with an expectant look.

" _Sooo?"_

Steve didn't look at Dolly, nor respond, and merely walked into the arcade, looking at all possible angles, following the flashing lights and colorful headers. At the crane machines to his right, lined up against the wall, at the gun simulated games to the left, and some games that used fake motorcycles just ahead of him. Bucky would _love_ this, and it only had him wishing he'd done this earlier since being out of the ice. Talk about a culture shock.

"And we can play? All of these?"

"Yup! I got us a gamer card and everything, we just swipe and play! Go ahead Steve, lead the way!"

He was in awe.

And led the way.

Dolly felt a flutter in her chest, seeing the awe and excitement shining from Steve's face—to see him happy for the second time in over sixty years was a blessing, and left a smile creased upon her features. She followed the taller soldier, guessing where he'd want to go first—perhaps a newer pinball machine, or maybe take risk and dance against her in Japanese Dance-Dance Revolution? The brunette continued guessing when finally, he stopped at the motorcycle race game, watching the demo run with the flashing lights, 'INSERT COIN' flashing on top.

"Wanna do this?" Dolly stepped up to the first motorcycle, prepared to get on. She also took the arcade card out to swipe when ready.

Steve looked at the motorcycle—it was a lot smaller than a regular motorcycle, and had him wondering if he'd even _fit_ on the thing. His gaze shifted to Dolly for an answer. _Can I fit?_

Dolly's brows furrowed, wondering why the confused look etched his features. Then, she realized his size compared to the motorcycle and let out a chuckle as she got onto the first motorcycle.

"Just get on! You'll be fine!"

And so he got on. She swiped both card swipes for him, and led the directions on how to prepare the game. Pick the type of cycle. A driver. A track.

 _Go time._

Dolly, at the countdown before the race, looked over at Steve and how he was basically _overtaking_ the cycle, clearly too big for the cycle—this version was meant for a younger audience, of course. She couldn't help but laugh and tease him as the engines ran and they were off!

"Don't lean to the side too much to turn, or you'll fall off, Macho man!"

"Bet you I won't, slow-poke!"

He didn't fall off.

Steve won with Dolly in third place; after, Steve led the way to a car simulated Jurassic Park game where they both screamed and shot at velociraptors and tyrannosaurus rexes, laughing when they shot at each other in flurries of dino ambushes. They got to level three before giving up, laughing while climbing out the small compartment.

"I've never had this much fun! Why didn't anyone tell me about this place?"

"Seriously? You've been around eight months and no one told you that you just had to try this? You've been neglected, Steve."

For the rest of their points on their arcade card, Dolly introduced him to Candy Crush, Kung Fu Panda Dojo Mojo, and, of course, the photo booth. Photo booth poses CONSISTED of: the funny face, the serious face, the super hero pose, and a formal pose where they stood next to one another and smiled.

Steve tried to win Dolly a claw machine stuffed grey bear with a stark white belly, but wasn't the greatest at the game. He tried, for Dolly enjoyed stuffed animals, especially of bears.

They won enough tickets for a prize at the 'WIN!' booth.

Dolly got a set of phosphorescent glow in the dark stars and Steve got a light up bedside alarm clock.

"How was it? A good push into the current times of today? I'm probably making you run before you walk, though."

"It's definitely one of the most exciting times of my life. Thanks, Dolly."

 _Candy Crush, how to beat a crane machine, how do glow stars work._ Those were the new words Steve wrote down, learning the ropes. And Dolly wasn't lonely.

* * *

 _ **\- 4 May 2012 -**_

 _They found him._ After spiraling under Loki's grasp, Natasha finally got Clint unconscious to take in. Her breath sped up as she got closer to the site, the bridge where Natasha got the agent, followed by two other paramedics behind. Hopefully neither of them were in critical condition—unlike Steve and Thor, Natasha and Clint required longer recovery times when it came to trauma or heavy injury.

And there he was.

"Pick him up, bring him to the treatment room. Now," Dolly commanded, directing the paramedics to follow orders. Then she saw her red-head friend. While the spy was trained to hide emotion, remain steady, and fight the war, there was some cracks in those fortresses—she worried for him. Dolly approached Natasha, about to reassure her, _It's going to be alright._ The abrupt message over the radio, however, sounded with Fury's grieving voice. It paused all thought.

' _Agent Coulson is down. … They called it.'_

Dolly stared at Natasha, her breath caught in her lungs, deciding whether to inhale or crumble—Coulson was down at the hands of a _monstrous_ god seeking power and greed. It made her furious. No life deserved to be taken away from the world like that. Regardless of her fury and grief, there was no time to be sick for a medic, she had to care and tend to Clint's damage. Instead of saying anything, the two simply nodded at one another in mutual sorrow. They'd remember and mourn the agent after the war was won.

Upon entering the treatment room, Dolly shifted into action—her responsibility to bring Clint back to his feet. _She had to do her job._

"Check his vitals, make sure he's not going to go into anything life threatening."

The medics RAN into action, reaching for a set of tools used to check Barton's temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and respiration rate. Temperature _, high_. Blood pressure, stable. Pulse, _high._ Respiration rate, _low._

COOL him. OXIDATE him. Dolly hooked up the breathing machine, placing the mask over Clint's mouth to help give his form adequate oxygen. Medics helped, bringing supplies to cool the patient down. Bring his temperature down, bring him to a healthy vital state. HOOK up the IV. Dolly, knowing the brutalities of Thor's brother, knew Clint wouldn't have gotten adequate supplies of water—this was not necessary when all Loki would do in the end is dispose of Clint and his team upon reaching his goal.

Oh, how she wished she could just…—ugh, _**breathe.**_ ' _No bad thoughts.'_

… "The patient is stable, Ms. Grey."

"Thank you. Restrain his arms, we don't know whether he'll come to the waking world as a threat or ally." Dolly leveled up Clint more than they already had him, bringing him to a comfortable sitting position before grabbing his forearms and sliding them to the sides of the bed where the medics STRAPPED and SECURED the restraints.

It took ten minutes for him to wake up in a fury of emotion, shaking his head and torso, FIGHTING with the beast within. At this, the medics went to reach for Clint to keep him down and sedate him; Dolly rose a hand, refused their intentions, and allowed Clint to fight his own battle. While they had brought him to a stable physical state, it was up to himself to bring his own mind there as well.

Dolly pressed her fingers against the com in her left ear, "Nat, Infirmary 31F. He's awake. He needs you."

"I'll be there, Doll."

Nat entered through the sliding metal door in record time and bee-lined to Clint. Dolly quickly dismissed the other medics and stopped Natasha from touching the fellow agent.

"He's still unstable, if we touch him more than we already have, he may lose the little control he has. I suggest talking to him, bringing him to the present and out of Loki's grasp. Once he comes to, go from there. I have to tend to other wounded agents from the assault, so I'll be back in a bit."

Dolly made her way to leave, but paused at the sudden touch. Her arm shivered from her wrist up to her core; she looked down, seeing that Natasha holding onto her wrist gently. It was rare for the agent to show any kind of emotion on the job, if at all, but Dolly saw it in her eyes – the gratitude shining and the hint of a smile at the end of her lips.

"Thank you for helping him."

The words that come to Dolly had her nodding as a response before she swiftly continued her job, exiting Infirmary 31F to hover along the others within her hallway. An agent was BURNED, sharp metal prickling against his skin. Another, erupting in screams at the multiple gun wounds she'd survived. Blood, suffering, WAR. All because of the likes of greed and a twisted version of what Loki thought as _redemption._ Dolly knew this feeling, the feeling of wanting to be accepted—redeemed, but not in this way. Not with VIOLENCE and CRUELTY.

She went from room to room, holding her anger down in the depths of her mind, focused on the health of her patients, on her responsibility of keeping them in the waking life.

So focused, she slammed into the fully suited Stars and Bars.

"Steve—?"

"Have you seen Natasha? We got information on Loki, I need them to get ready."

"Y-Yeah! Follow me, I'll clear Clint and they'll be ready to kick some ass."

" _Language,_ Dolly."

Rolling her eyes, Dolly lightly hit Steve's arm, turning down the hall to 31F, opening the door to reveal an unprepared Black Widow. Going further into the room, she saw Clint, stable and conscious, ready to fight. The both of them gave one another a thumbs up before looking over at Natasha and Steve.

"…Can you fly one of those jets?"

"I can."

Steve looked over at Barton, nervous about trusting him, when only earlier in the day did he try to compromise the entire group. Natasha, noticing this, have a nod to confirm the ally—Barton was on their side.

"You got a suit?"

"Yeah."

"Then suit up."

* * *

" _Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it."_

…

Half way destroyed, caved in from The Incident, they all sat at a large table that survived, shawarma, drinks, and tahini on the side. No one really spoke, only ate, absorbing what exactly _happened._ Tony, traumatized from saving the city from the government who thought blowing everything up would solve problems, was in a trance, lost in food; Bruce, focusing on his food rather than his emotions; Natasha and Clint, compartmentalizing as they were trained to do while slowly going at their meals; Thor, eating Midgardian food (as he called it) faster than all of them, observing the remnants of the shop. And Steve, with his face against his propped up hand, sulking probably at the lives lost and the damage done, even though the Avengers did, in fact, save billions of lives. While Dolly felt concerned for Tony's mental state the most, she held concern for them all—she couldn't understand what it was like, fighting for the world, holding its life in one's hands, but tried to give some form of compassion either way.

While she didn't kill aliens from a different universe and destroy a giant portal releasing an army of invaders, she was witness of the collateral damage with the public; children injured or dead, mothers searching for them, and individuals traumatized by a sudden war zone inhabiting their world.

She looked at her shawarma, at the glazed pork wrapped around the pita and the shredded vegetables threatening their way out, and set it down into the basket shaped plate. Her gaze shifted over to Steve, then to his plate, before she nudged him on the side; his reaction delayed, his troubled features looking down at the brunette in question.

"You should eat; you did a lot today." Her voice was a soft whisper, careful not to disrupt the momentarily held peace.

No response, he just looked away again. She SIGHED, a pang of an abstract feeling hitting her chest—she knew not what it was, but she didn't give up, she'd merely try a different tactic, a common strategy both she and Bucky did back then.

"While you were fighting," she paused to observe Steve, to see if he was listening; the whole group seemed to be low-key listening. "I went out into the field to help people get to safety. There was a woman who'd lost her child, who ended up being hurt. I tended him, fixed him up so he could survive and make it to the hospital. She took the time to tell me how grateful she was for you all, especially you, Steve. She said you saved both of their lives and how thankful she is for it. So, stop sulking and eat. Just a bit."

Again, _silence._

"Not only did you save her, but you all saved New York. You're all heroes, regardless of some externalities."

Steve shifted in his seat, looking over at Dolly again. The conflicting emotions revealed themselves through the morphing of his facial features. Maybe she would get him to put something down before they would leave.

"You're a hero, too, Dolly. Behind the scenes, you helped people live another day instead of die from their injuries."

At least he responded.

"You're too humble, Captain. Learn to take a compliment without fluffing my wool. Now, eat so you can still be Dorito Man."

"I shall bear the honor of taking the compliment for him, Lady Grey."

"Thor, we need to hang out more."

* * *

 _ **\- 2014 -**_

The weight of the packet Fury gave Dolly was far more than she'd expected—this was more of a book than a packet, as he called it. The stark white brought out the text where Dolly slid her fingers over the smooth texture and read:

PROJECT: INSIGHT

Alexander Pierce

S.H.I.E.L.D.

Her brows furrowed, recognizing the project leader's name, but being able to put a face to it. Her direct contact was usually with Fury, not many other higher-ups. Reading it was more of a skim than a detailed read, she got the main ideas—but didn't agree with it by how it was worded. Kill those before they commit a crime; this was not justice. She looked up at the Director who sat behind his desk, analyzing for any physical or emotional indicators that could give her any extra information on the matter. Her brain buzzed, jumping from idea to idea—sparks ran from one section to the other, attempting to create the links from person to person, and who was _really_ behind this all. The secrecy hidden behind this matter made her stomach clench, an all too known feeling.

"Who's _really_ running this?"

"How's your time with the Captain? Got him up to speed on everything in the world?"

"We're fine, _**best buddies.**_ Pals. He's getting there, we're getting him started on _Star Trek._ _Now,_ cut the filler. Explain to me this: do you plan on _slaughtering_ innocent people before they even _think_ about doing anything? Just because their ancestors did something stupid?"

"Now, Agent Grey. We can't afford to be _compassionate_ like you, we need to get rid of threats before they even happen. We can't let things like New York happen again."

"SHIELD is based on protecting people. Not threatening them at every breath."

"Get up with the times, **Grey.** You know what it means to do nasty stuff for what a society believes in. Now, will you help with diagnostics and monitoring, or not?"

Dolly stared. Stared and fought the waves of various opinions she had crashing into her head at once. She tried to take every detail into account, think of the risks, of the information she could absorb and change. Perhaps being a biomedical engineer did come in handy.

With a sigh, she agreed. "I'm in."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for the favorites! This is more of a connecting chapter; I felt that the Avengers arc wasn't quite necessary to delve into, much because I'd like to get the rising action going with CA:TWS events and get to the real deal! Bucky will be showing up soon! Reviews are much appreciated. :)

 **Chapter 4** – PROJECT: Insight

"This is cruel and brings the people at fear. This isn't what SHIELD was made to be."


	4. PROJECT: Insight

_"Anyone who trades LIBERTY for SECURITY deserves NEITHER liberty nor security."_

* * *

 _Her heart RACED, catching itself within the constraints of her throat; her lungs ACHED, debating whether to freeze or shiver in breath. Fingers TWITCHED, hardly hanging onto the now tear-stained letter—anxiety filled the air around her, constraining her to one position within Steve's apartment._

 _He was gone._

" _Dolly,_

 _This is_ _Buck I'm sorry I couldn't save hi (all crossed out)  
_

 _Bucky's gone. He died a hero, trying to defeat HYDRA by my side, but I couldn't protect him_

 _I did the best I could._ _He died by_ _He died a quick death, Dolly and he still loved you 'til the end._

 _\- Steve "_

 _Gone._ _ **GONE forever,**_ _lost, left behind with no proper goodbye. There was no growing old and living a life after the war. …But that's what war did, it brought only pain and suffering to both sides. The fighting wouldn't stop until one side fell to submission, on their knees and begging for the end. And Bucky had become one of the casualties of this fight, left in his own SHIMMERING red stained coat to go on into God's hands._

 _Dolly's shoulders tightened as tears burst out in both grief and rage—sobs escaped her lips, there was no holding back, for no one was there to witness her soul shatter. Like a child, she continued letting out each cry with floods of tears dripping onto her chest and the carpet—her head hurt, it pulsed at every sniffle and crack. Her chest BURNED for air that refused to enter, forcing her to gasp for life._

 _What was the point? Steve was gone, who knows if he'd come back. And Bucky._ _ **Bucky was gone.**_

 _Grief grasps heavy at her heart, pain stings at her palm by her fingers digging through skin; emotions were not held back, and shouted at her to release her sadness and pain. RELEASE IT for ease, for any kind of solace she could manage to get at. Dolly's hands reached into her hair, pulled at the first chunks her fingers could wrap around, but took care in not damaging or PULLING out any strands. This was her way of resisting, resisting the TEMPTATION to harm anything within her grasp, to let out her fury, her pain, her grief._

 _Why hadn't anyone stayed with him?_ Did Steve stay until his last—? _Was he left alone in the cold winter's choke?_

 _She cringed as she toppled backward against the bookshelf leaning against the wall, choking on heartache and shaking violently along her legs. It was only two weeks ago she got a letter from Bucky saying he'd be home. That he'd be home and he'd embrace her as soon as he stepped off the ship._

 _All of that._ _ **All that anticipation, destroyed.**_

 _Dolly released the pain within her through her mouth and scream—until her vocal chords ran raw and her torso begged for air. A STORM ERUPTED, the book shelf slammed onto the floor, releasing its ammunition of books across the ratted carpet. The glass vase that sat on the top shelf SHATTERED into dangerous shards littered across the battle field, laying the grounds for what was still to come. Dolly went for the next thing she could; pencils, paper, more books, and small stools, all met their death through the violent THRASHING that sent them flying to the other side of the apartment, commonly meeting their end against the opposite facing wall._

 _Reality slipped away, the blurs of emotion and weakness revealing themselves amongst their sleeves—one of her only weaknesses, damaged, destroyed, now left her vulnerable. Each desperate gasp for air released a devastating pain through her shivering chest; it did not stop her from throwing everything within her path, including glass china the three saved up for to buy for Steve's mother's birthday before her death._

 _This continued long enough for fatigue to take over, bringing Dolly to her knees at the archway to Bucky's area Steve kept for him for when he stayed. Her lifeless drooping eyes surveyed her surroundings, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of a stuffed bear._

 _The bear was a light brown, fluffy, and had a blue military coat on it just like Bucky's—he had given it to her back when they watched the sunset together at Steeplechase's Parachute ride, just before deployment. Tears were long dried, her breathing settling, her body SHUTTING DOWN. There was enough energy, however, to lean forward and reach for the bear with gentle fingers. She leaned back, her shoulders sagging, her breath quivering as she ran her index fingers through the soft curls of fur atop the bear's head._

 _She swallowed, her stare unfocused on the bear, only functioning to keep her grounded—to keep her afloat from the return of the storm. All the sadness faded to the background, replaced with nothing but something that felt like a numbness of the sorts. She sighed, her voice scratching into the emptiness of the post-war damaged apartment._

 _.. " STEVE … IT_ _ **HURTS**_ _SO MUCH. "_

 _Dolly shifted, slumping over to the floor, LANDING on the target carpet, hugging the carnival bear against her chest. The areas below her eyes felt sagged, tired, and ready to rest, while her temples throbbed against the walls of her protected thoughts, long gone and damaged. Her lids felt heavy, felt defeated, threatening the dream world to open and attack the army that was Dolly, again and again. She did not fight, and allowed the dream world to envelop her and give her some form of escape._

… _Bucky's gone._

 _Bucky's gone._

" _Oh, Bucky."_

* * *

" _Gee, honey, you look like you haven't slept in days!" Margaret Ankins leaned over the bright red glittered diner service counter, inches away from the slumped Dolly, lost in the golden hash browns staring back at her from the breakfast plate. Margaret's features shifted, concerned about the brunette—Dolly usually took the time to look presentable when going out. This time, she just put on the nearest cardigan and dress on the floor to get out for air. She wasn't even matching! Brown and black was a no-no._

 _The diner waitress snapped her fingers two, three, four times before Dolly's dull brown-green eyes slowly met the other woman's blue ones. The hazel shine to Dolly's eyes had dulled out, revealing more to Margaret than the rainy sulking attitude the woman had from the moment she stepped in._

" _Dolly, sugar. You're my best friend, you've locked yourself up in that little tiny apartment for weeks! You gotta' get up and get through life, hun. I know it's hard, but you can't leave yourself like this; you need to take care of yourself." She paused, looking over her friend's vacant expression. "I'm trying to help you… When did you last go to work?"_

"— _I called in sick. Flu." Dolly hardly let out a mumble, making it difficult for Margaret to decipher what she had said. She opened her mouth, ready to respond, but was interrupted by the duties of work._

" _Hey, toots! Gimme another round a' coffee ova' here!"_

 _Margaret rolled her eyes dramatically before whispering at Dolly 'to stay put' while she went to grab the black coffee mug to serve the customer—he was a daily, and she loathed serving him and his_ _ **rude**_ _attitude._

 _Dolly hardly noticed she'd left or that her hash browns had gone cold. She reached for the fork to her left with her chapped fingers, curling two of them around the body of the fork, resting another two under the body, and the thumb against her index finger (no one taught her how to_ properly _hold a pencil, let alone a fork). The hash browns cracked at the metal picking through it's flesh, revealing the pale-yellow potato shreds underneath the golden ones that had endured the fork's assault. It occurred to her that she was starving, her stomach shriveling, desperate for sustenance._

 _Cautious, worried her body would deny the food, she took small bites of the potatoes, scattering the darker pieces to reveal the pale-yellow pieces to eat first. The plate slowly revealed the white shine underneath the food, a sign of progress over the last two weeks, an accomplishment in its own._

 _Being joined by another, however, halted her progress. A woman, chic and ready to take on the way, sat beside Dolly—her hair in perfect curls, striped sailor-influenced button up nice and ironed, and her Ladies Misses' Skirt free of any stray hair._

" ' _cuse me, may I have some coffee? Black, two sugars."_

' _I'm the only one sitting here, why not sit on another stool—away from me?'_

 _Dolly glanced over at her to take note of her appearance, of the bright red lipstick, and of the way she held herself to much higher standards compared to Dolly. It made a dip in her stomach ride up and down in a feeling of disappointment, or how she let herself get to this state. Her gaze shifted over to her plate, allowing the thoughts she'd compressed over the last couple of weeks flow out of the gates. Perhaps she neglected herself too much, took a fall. Bucky wouldn't want her to do that, he'd want her to be successful and lively._

… _But she wasn't ready._

 _As thoughts flowed, wave after wave, throughout her vast mind, she found herself accidentally scratching the bare area of the plate with her fork, creating screeching noises audible to the woman beside her. To her demise, the woman spoke to her._

" _Are you okay, dear?"_

 _Empty eyes looked over at her, hesitant to show any weakness—vulnerability would only leave open risk for danger, emotional or physical. With her strength, built up, she managed a brief smile._

" _I'm fine, thank you."_

" _You don't look it. Come now, what's got you in such a bad mood?"_

" _Uhm… no, really, I'm fine. Really." Her voice shook, failing to listen to her mind, allowing a crack to let out - the line that kept it all back ripped and tears followed, Dolly's hands immediately ran up to wipe away._

" _S-Sorry, I'm just—just… I'm having a b-bad day— "_

 _"Hmm... it's always easier to talk to a stranger when it comes to bad days. No leaning, just an outlet to vent to. —Now, dear, let it all out."_

* * *

 _ **\- 2014 -**_

Three next generation helicarriers synced to the network of satellites she was working on that were designed for targeting and DESTROYING. She adjusted the monitoring systems, and whilst tinkering, she stumbled onto a file containing a list—a long, complex list that had names of many individuals living within the world's surface. _Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner._ A list of FAMILIAR names, of recognizable names, and names of innocents living their lives, targeted by factors such as their SAT score and health records. She knew people would be killed because of this, but _this many?_ RAGE filled Dolly's form, a feeling she felt before accepting the position that only increased—the NEED to protect as many lives as she could, a need to keep them safe, was strong.

Her initial goal: to gather intel, compromise the project. She would not let people die without being charged of a crime. Now, with enough information, her goal was to, _above all else_ , keep the public _safe_ and compromise the project _._

Through a series of loopholes and security checks, Dolly found her way to the depths of the tracking information imbedded within monitoring and diagnostics. COPY, PASTE, PROCESS. Dolly compiled the information and sent it to her lab computer up on the higher level of the bay—it was a convenience to have her computer connected to her log-in. _40%... 60%... 100%-_ _**SENT.**_ Dolly looked to her sides, taking note of who was around within the project room, for she couldn't be FOUND OUT. It could mean the loss of her job, her reputation, or even her own life, if known by the right person. She had to get out of there and finish her task and get the final product OUT of SHIELD's hands, hidden somewhere.

She quickly scanned the newest updates on the project in the main computer file and noticed another quick, important detail—the satellites were to be launched tonight into space for the future scans to track millions of targets. _Steve is going to the Lemurian Star tonight…_ Her eyes squinted, blurring the text within her vision as she thought— _she had_ to ask Fury if he knew about the satellites, about what was going on at the ship.

GET OUT. Dolly bee-lined for the door, through the helicarrier bay, and into the elevator.

"B3, labs."

The elevator bounced, beginning its ascend to the higher levels of the building, the secrets of SHIELD disappearing from her sight and to the bottoms of her feet, below the concrete flooring. B6… B4… B3. The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open with a light _ding!_ RUSHED, Dolly speed-walked down the hall, took the turn, and made it to her lab and punched in the code to unlock the door; the door unlocked and cracked open with a loud _thunk!_ as a greeting.

Dolly slammed the door shut behind her, concerned for any eyes to see her, whispers to leak out, or anyone to ambush her for whatever reason. ' _Calm down, Grey. You got this.'_ Dolly harped at herself, she was panicking, anxiety was pushing her to fill with all sorts of thoughts—being watched, being _chased,_ being COMPROMISED. Dolly let out a shaky, stressful sigh as she slid into her rolling chair and booted the computer from a sleeping state.

"Grey, Emily. Get the programs running with the following file."

"Of course, Ms. Grey."

Thank Tony for her own little computer servant. She clicked on the file she had transferred, pulling it into the processing program to get the little mechanical machines she had on the table behind her to mold and program three drives of the desired information—FLAWED tracking chips, a liability that would bring the helicarriers to their doom if need be. _Destroy the army, destroy it from the inside._

Dolly reached for her hair, ran through it, unintendedly loosening the tie she had in the back—stress stirred within her depths, increasing her pulse and pushing beads of sweat down her forehead. Was she doing the right thing? Would she be found ou— _stop. You'll be fine._

"All three chips are complete. Anything else, Ms. Grey?"

"Get rid of the evidence, erase this session, shut down. This never happened. …Thanks, Atwood."

* * *

 **FOCUS.** Dolly breathed in, standing before Fury's door, holding it for seven seconds, then releasing for eight. Her eyes opened as her hand opened the door to lay eyes on Fury sitting at his desk, watching the screen on his computer. His eye followed the agent's form, not quite expecting her so soon.

"Agent Grey, what can I do for you?"

Dolly strolled into the office, the door clicking behind her, and decided to stay standing in front of Fury's desk, allowing the covered mask of content to fall off and reveal her concern.

"I know about the Lemurian Star and that Steve is going with the STRIKE force team. Does he know the details of this mission?" She assumed Fury was on the same page and knew the details, knew about the satellites, about the potential threat, about the links. What she didn't know quite yet, was that he was aiming for the same goal as she.

"His mission is to save hostages we got word of being there earlier last night. Mercs have been in control and we have important agents on that ship. Anything else is none of his concern."

He was sent but with different intentions. _Why?_ Her eyes narrowed, attempting to SEE through the Director, to see any information she could recover, but her eyes came with nothing. After her years of service, she still never came to trust Fury, regardless of the things she's been involved with, the information she's carried, and the blind trust Fury gave her from the beginning—she never came to take that leap forward, because that kind of trust meant opening in another form, giving out her secrets.

"There's another goal you have, though. You wouldn't be sending in so many people, including Natasha, for just a couple of pirates. - What about the satellites?"

"What about them? They're for the helicarriers. You know more about them than me, so what _are_ you asking?"

 _Dammit. Tell me what I'm_ _ **missing.**_ She was missing SOMETHING, some DETAIL that she was overlooking—the project was one thing, but there was something underlying the entire project. She couldn't put a finger on what it was—her ideas were always dramatic and paranoia based, like HYDRA being behind it, after innocent lives to get them out of the pic— _again, stop, Grey._ She mentally shook the thoughts away, returning to Fury. "This is cruel and brings the people at fear. This isn't what SHIELD was made to be." She paused. Steve had to know about this. If not about the satellites, he had to know about the helicarriers. "If you can't take my word on it, show Steve. Show Steve and see what he has to say – or I will."

" _Watch it,_ Grey. You're not authorized to show him any of that."

"No, I'm not, but you need to share this with him! Give him that much, you can trust him. Show him he's wrong about not trusting you." If she couldn't trust him, she needed at least someone to do it for her, and that had to be Steve.

His brow creased, thoughtful, voice sharp as he dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "I'll share. I'm nice like that."

"Thank you, Fury." Dolly gave a nod, signaling her dismissal before letting herself out of the office and down to the main floor. Before she left, she heard his last remark, swearing he'd said she 'needed to learn to trust, too.' She needed fresh air and a drink, not advice.

* * *

 _A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice._

Dolly grasped Steve's hand as they walked into the Smithsonian Museum's Captain America exhibit, trembling with anticipation. For as long as the exhibit had been open, Dolly had refused to visit it, _especially_ alone. To remember, to _relive_ from the old footage on display, terrified her—she got over her losses, over mourning, and over all her griefs. She was scared to become emotional in front of the public, and repeatedly refused to go. Finally, after weeks of harping, she gave in—Steve insisted she go with him, to take it as a positive journey, to not be indecisive and just _go._ 'If you see It in a positive light, it'll give you a piece of what was home again.'

"I'm not sure about this…" she muttered, leaning over to the super soldier as they walked to the exhibit revealing pre-serum Rogers. _Denied Enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique to the annals of American warfare… into the world's first super soldier._ Kids were enjoying the height comparisons, gasping in delight at the amount Steve had grown after the Rebirth project. Dolly watched, hardly noticing the little boy that recognized Steve. They wandered to the Howling Commandos display, showing the Captain in front with the Commandos in the back, lined side-by-side. She couldn't keep her eyes of that navy coat—the collar, how it folded over in a fashionable yet function sense, how _warm_ it made her feel to just take the color and sensations in through her eyes. She remembered the photo she got in the post from him of the entire team, shining bright with smiles, except him—always so serious, trying to be the cool one of the group. Aloud, Dolly let out a small melancholy chuckle which brought a small smile to Steve's face—at least she was taking this in a comforting sense.

 _Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes… Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battle field._ Dolly's grasp on Steve's hand tightened as they approached Bucky's display, her chest tightened while her heart raced to a feeling she hadn't felt in many years. In far too long. 'A Fallen Comrade.' He was more than that—a friend, support, smart-ass, love.

"Always serious for photos." Dolly's voice was tight, hardly allowing sound to come out from between her lips. Her comment cracked a smile on Steve, which was quick to disappear. They had both lost something that day, and the two weren't entirely over it.

 _Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country._

The short lines of film were on repeat, of Steve and the group talking strategy, of the two friends smiling, of Bucky _laughing._ His laugh, she practically heard it next to her as the silent film played on the small screen, viewed by all the nearby guests. His laugh always brought a smile onto her face, even during the darkest times the three encountered over those years. Even after he died, Bucky was still around Dolly in some way, bringing some sort of smile to her. This happened to be one of the more physical ways.

She just wished he was here with her.

Tears threatened to creep out of her eyes, the emotion of not having Bucky—her Bucky—around anymore, lost somewhere in another world. She held in the burst that wanted to flow from her walls, and murmured to Steve that she needed to use the restroom, to go on without her. TO LET HER RUN. Quick to find the restroom, she went in and to the furthest stall from the door—the furthest to allow her to be heard. _She couldn't do this._ Maybe this was a bad idea. She was fine at the start, she even felt comfort and warmth from the visit.

It was the video that broke her, allowed her to CRACK. All these years, and she still wasn't ready to GO BACK in time and relive those moments. It made her feel weak, FRAGILE. A muffled sob escaped from her hand that covered her mouth, tears soaking her cheeks— _breathe._

She breathed. Five seconds… _Hold,_ seven seconds… _release,_ eight.

The world stilled around her, holding its breath with her, releasing it on her mark. It took multiple rounds before her head began to feel light, relaxed, _grounded._ Both heart and mind told her not to try again, to just wait for Steve outside the entrance, to dwell into the mechanical airplane exhibit for a different kind of comfort, _one she accepted._

And she did just that. Sitting in front of a Mitsubishi A6M5 Reisen (Zero Fighter) plane and watching the pedestrians that wandered by, either excited to see Captain America or the Dinosaur exhibit in another wing. She pushed her mind off Bucky, and came to the present. Here she was, in DC, caught in what seemed like the oncoming of a storm within SHIELD, with her _best friends—both_ from the past and present.

Still living, still breathing, still SURVIVING, and not only by herself, but with _Steve._ He had come back to her and filled one of the major gaps she held within herself since he'd crashed into the ice. It made her warm to know she wasn't solo anymore, ever since Clint, Nat, and Steve came into her picture.

"Hey, you doin' okay?"

Steve towered over her, looking at her the way she usually looked at him after he came back home from all kinds of fights (in which he wasn't ever successful). She couldn't help but smile at the look.

"Looks like we're switching roles, Steve—now you're Mother Hen. Yeah—no—I'm fine, really."

He rolled his eyes in a playful manner, taking the space to her right to sit down and look at the various planes hung on almost every side of them. Even this exhibit reminded him of the fight back in the day, with the planes rumbling overhead while the Commandos held camp and rested for the night.

"I'm going to go visit her… think you can get home alright?" _Peggy._ She knew it was always a big thing for him, even though she's never met the woman. He held her to his heart like his life depended on it, and Dolly knew what that felt like.

" _Heyyy,_ I may not have a Dorito body like you to take down an army, but I can still get by without you, silly. I may go for a walk, first. Say hi for me, eh?"

"Will do, Doll. Will do."

* * *

 _Make sure he's DEAD. CONFIRM?_

 _ **Confirmed.**_

Heavy boots steadied, locking against the friction of the concrete road, the eyes of a SNIPER watching the half-destroyed SUV speed his way. The soldier—the weapon—breathed out slowly, raised the magnetic disk grenade gun, and shot. SHOT and CLUNG to the bottom of the projectile in his range. FLAMES erupted after the grenade went off, letting loose the SUV through the air in a pile of smoke; he shifted, turning to the side for a swift avoidance of the danger.

The target LANDED on the other side of the road, enveloped in grey, ready for the pounce. _COMPLETE THE MISSION._ The soldier moved, his body twisting to the direction of his PREY—he itched for violence, _starved_ for the kill, only increasing in level as distance became closer and closer between he and his prey. Metal mechanics of the soldier's limb whirled and hummed, voicing the threat the man embodied.

The heavy thud of boots approached the SUV, eager to satisfy his requirements—he was going to _rip him apart._

COMPLETE THE MISSION.

 _COMPLETE THE MISSION._

His metal grip tore the weak van door and whipped it to the side; it was only UNNECESSARY and kept him away from his target. The ghost—the machine—bent over and peered into the bent compartment and met with a fresh made hole into the sewer system. The target was still AT LARGE. Gears whirled along the walls of the soldier's mind, constructing an alternative plan of attack—first, disappear. Disappear as a GHOST without witnesses.

Do not question, stray, or defy.

There was no such thing as a failed mission.

 **Mission** _ **:**_ _In Progress_

* * *

Keys dangled against one another, one singled out to fit into the apartment's keyhole; the key was made by Steve for Dolly, the key a custom design, one of a black poodle with a pink collar where the key's unique carving for the lock started. It was her favorite key, for the others along her key ring were all various shades of gold or silver. The key clicked through the hole, twisted the lock, and unlocked the apartment building - Dolly pushed the door open and was quick to closing and locking it before throwing her keys onto the kitchen's marble counter.

This was better than her cubby hole of a place she made for herself within her lab back at SHIELD. Back in her lab, all she had was a cramped corner dedicated to 'personal relaxing,' decorated with rainbow Christmas lights above a thick hammock that was her mock bed. She only had thick camping blankets for her hammock covers, but was suitable alongside her side-sleeper pillow. To separate her lab to her bed, she got a mock bed sheet from the thrift store. Talk about _classy._

No, this was better. Steve invited her to stay with him in an extra room in the D.C. apartment he lived in while she sought out an 'official' place of stay—Steve wouldn't leave her alone, saying that her lab was not a place to live in all the time. _Like he knew. ..._ Perhaps he was right. Maybe one day she would have an apartment of her own in which she could share with Steve and perhaps others, like Clint and Nat.

That was only a dream, though.

The apartment was dark, only the city lights seeping in through the window panes, decorating the couch and pictures leaning against the walls a pale orange. Some posters were up—a nice motorcycle art piece, the US Army raising the flag as signaling the end of the war, sketches of inventions under construction by Stark back in the 40's, and even some knew photographs Steve liked from his searches on the internet. Most, however, were still stacked on top of each other in piles in corners or leaning against the eggshell white walls. Dolly wondered if Steve was already asleep, exhausted from the day's work—he wasn't.

"No shield in sight…" Dolly let out a small hushed comment to herself as she walked into the dining room, crossing it to approach the guest room door. The guest room was plain, simple and with little decorations – Dolly did, of course, add a few personal touches to the room to make it a temporary home. Instead of the entire room being different tints of white, from the eggshell wall to the laundry white sheets, she added a sunset ocean view painting on the wall across from the bed and a few lights to hang from the ceiling, pumpkin shaped lights shimmering a bright gold color from last year's Halloween. She laid on her stomach atop the plump winter comforter, grabbing her latest read from the nightstand to her left, _Endless Forms Most Beautiful._

… " _Evolution of form is very much a matter of teaching old genes new tricks!"_ Dolly lost track of time, her eyes DEVOURING the content, page after page, about evolution and how IRONICALLY simple it was. Simple to understand once the complexities were worked out. _Perhaps that's how her mystery will go – become more simple once some details are fleshed out._ Reading the biological piece put itself on pause, as the stereo from the living room snuck into her room from the crack she had open, presenting itself with the tune of _'It's Been a Long, Long Time.'_ It must have meant that Steve finally came home.

She continued reading, only reaching past two extra pages before pausing, PROCESSING the moment. Steve usually came into her room, checking in with her to see if she was alright. If she was hungry. If she wanted to watch a new episode of Star Trek with him, or even play the video game of the week she got to expose him to new things on a weekly basis. She thought. Her eyes wandered across the book held in her hands, to the covered pillows in front of her, and finally to the crack of the door to her far left. _Odd._

Dolly, cautious, slides her legs to the side of the bed, leaning forward with care to reach the cold wooden floor. Concern masked her fear, however, a small rattle was felt within her chest—she was nervous, worried about Steve. _Could someone had snuck in?_ She stopped at the door, her breathing audible, her hand shivering as she reached for the white wood to push open just a bit for her head to poke out. The view did not give her enough to analyze, only revealing the dining room area and a portion of the living room, including the couch—the individual had to be nearby Steve's door, one of the only places she couldn't see, a vulnerability for both when it came to pranks.

Curiosity got the best of her, tempting her to reach forward, step through the threshold and investigate the perimeter. The pads of her feet led her, stinging at every step against the cool floor, toward Steve's room; darkness enveloped her, giving a slight advantage since the city lights did not reveal her location. The caution was not needed at the sight of the visitor—Director Fury sat in the small reading chair near Steve's room, shrouded in the shadows, protected. His posture did not fool her - she knew, regardless of the lighting, that he was hurt in one form or another. This had to do something with Project: Insight – the big topic of the month. She about opened her mouth, her vocal chords pushing to let out sound, CURIOSITY, for answers; Fury put up a hand, hushing her, not putting a hair of effort in holding back her stubbornness. There was something wrong.

There was something _definitely_ wrong.

Especially since Steven Rogers was climbing through a window to get into his own damn apartment. Dolly looked over at Steve, armed with his shield, before nodding over to Fury, who they both turned a keen eye on.

"I don't remember giving you a key."

"You really think I'd need one?" Fury shifted, REVEALING his suffering, failing in hiding it to the extent he wanted. Three seconds, three seconds to fabricate a lie that even Dolly saw through. "My wife kicked me out."

Steve's brows furrowed, revealing "Didn't know you were married."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"I know, Nick. That's the problem."

Dolly reached past Steve, flipping on the light switch to reveal an injured Fury, beat to a pulp, simply shredded MEAT of the predator who had failed in scarfing him down the first time. She held in a gasp, reminding herself to be silent, CAREFUL. Fury turned off the lights, tapping at his phone the best his fingers could go, and revealing the shining blue light to the two of them.

' _EARS EVERYWHERE.'_

"I'm sorry you have to do this, but I had no place else to crash." Fury's eye shifted toward Steve's room, the ceiling, and the living room, SCANNING for bugs implanted in obvious potential areas. His eye returned to the mobile, and again tapped away.

' _SHIELD COMPROMISED.'_

"Who else knows about your wife?"

' _BOTH YOU AND ME.'_

"Just… my friends." Fury stood, hobbling toward the pair with an exhausted smirk curling onto his lips; he had to have multiple fractures, multiple bruises, he shouldn't have stood up.

"Is that what we are?" Steve continued the charade, masking his ANGER, his CONCERN, behind an agitated stare, commonly held in his stubborn acts with Fury. Play the part, play the role.

"That's up to you."

Time spun. One second, two second. SHOTS FIRED. Three seconds, four. Fury collapses, his body crunching to the wooden floor, staining his clothes and floor with crimson liquid, tainting the area. PANIC. Five seconds, six. _COMPARTMENTALIZE._

Dolly ran into action, the two dragging Fury to the kitchen by the marble island, to a safer area, away from the SNIPER'S sights. He struggled, struggled to gasp for air, to speak, to WARN Steve. The director, with his last attempts, hands Steve a silver flash drive. Dolly briefly eyed the drive but returned to aiding in her work, PRESSURIZING the wounds through the tangles of arms.

"Don't… trust. _Anyone."_ Crimson split from his lips, the urge to lose consciousness creeping in more and more each second. Dolly had to keep him awake, had to keep him BREATHING – she whispered to him, to 'stay awake' through chattering teeth. Her instincts were on FIRE, she BURNED at the adrenaline rushing into her veins—to be in the danger zone, to be a potential TARGET _terrified_ her. _NOT AGAIN. NO._ She would **not** be found, not be taken away, _not again._

She pushed her intrusive thoughts away, reminding herself the explosive banging of the front door was not a threat—in fact, it was a neighbor.

"Captain Rogers?" Kate, the kind blonde Dolly spoke to every morning on the way to work—she knew the 'nurse' was in fact a SHIELD agent, but never questioned it aloud whether she was a watcher or just happened to live there. The mission was covered in secrecy, and she kept it that way—Dolly was adept at keeping secrets. "Captain, I'm Agent 13 of SHIELD's Special Service."

"Kate?"

"I'm assigned to protect you."

"On whose order?"

"…His."

Dolly looked over at Steve, desperate for closure—for _revenge_ on the killer, knowing Fury may not well make it. The face had to be known, had to be pursued.

"Go, _**go!**_ " Dolly shouted at Steve. He ran into pursuit, the shattering of a nearby window echoing through the commotion, a clear sign he had sights on the sniper. Dolly had Kate assist her to keep Fury going, to keep his cover alive, to keep _him_ alive; agents poured into the apartment, and the trialing journey to heaven's door, the emergency room, begun.

"You're going to be okay, Fury. _Listen to me, keep your eyes open_." He lost consciousness.

* * *

"He's dropping." Multiple doctors and nurses worked as fast as they could, REMOVING the slugs, stitching up the perforations, supplying oxygen to keep him ALIVE and living. Dolly kept track of the levels, handing multiple tools to each working doctor. Buzzing flew through her mind, keeping her on fire, keeping her on her toes whilst trying to keep her boss in the living world, not to fall to the dead.

"Crash cart coming in."

"Nurse, help me with the gauze, please. BP is dropping. – _Defibrillator!"_ Dolly approached Fury's bare chest, gauze gripped in her hands, ready to apply. Gauze covered the bleeding, pressure applied in attempt to CLOSE the river of blood. "Charge to one hundred." This was it, they were on the line. They had to go to desperate measures.

He was dying, and Dolly couldn't change that.

She backed away at the sight of the defibrillator, retreating to her safe zone beside the pulse reading screen, ready to report the pulse from each attempt to PUSH him back to life.

"Stand back! _Three, two, one…_ _ **Clear!"**_

SHOCKS erupt within Fury's body, shaking him to his core, the body jumping in shock at the amount of energy soaring within. 'Pulse?' The question came, Dolly's stare jumping to the line and statistics to the side. A big NEGATIVE.

"No pulse." She responded, masking her emotion, keeping her professional world in the NOW, her grief and sorrow for the end.

"Okay, charge two hundred, please." He rubbed the two pieces together, static buzzing in between the two plates, ready to release another round of ammunition throughout Fury's body. "Three, two, one. _Clear!"_

ANOTHER storm rushed its way through Fury, demanding a response, demanded a PUMPING heart as compensation for the job, but did not receive.

"Give me epinephrine! Pulse?"

"No pulse." Dolly repeated stiffly, handing the injection to the doctor. They were going to call it. THIS was what Dolly hated in her job, CALLING the time, recording the death within the depths of her mind and preparing to share it with those close to the patient. _Steve. Nat._ She was blessed for the window reflecting the scene and not revealing them behind, their faces.

"What's the time?"

Dolly looked to the side at the large digital clock required in every room, required to tell the time Death takes patients to where they were destined to travel to in the afterlife. "1:03, Doctor."

"Time of death, 1:03 AM."

Dolly set down the tools the doctor previously required, shifting to the next phase: clean up. One by one, each tube was removed: IV, oxygen, pulse monitor. Blood washed away to the hard floor, down the drain, revealing the clean dark skin again. Cleaning the director up, making him clean for a final viewing, to roll into the adjacent room for friends and family to see before the future funeral ceremonies—it was difficult enough. To see Steve and Nat, well, was even harder.

It took ten minutes to transfer Fury to another room, revealing his dead form covered in a thin sheet for decency. Dolly brought Steve and Natasha to the viewing room and stood closest to the door as she could, away from the reminder of what had HAPPENED. The BOOM of each slug, the crumpling of Fury's body as he fell to the apartment floor. She handled it before with other patients, but for Fury— _for Fury,_ she couldn't BURY the emotion as fast. No one said a thing, just took a moment of SILENCE to convey their feelings, their remorse; Dolly snuck a glance in Steve's direction, noticing a tint of mystery in his features—he was hiding something. He knew why Fury was targeted, and it had something to do with that drive Fury gave him. It had to involve the Lemurian Star, Project Insight… This wasn't over.

Silent steps echoed across the tiled floor—Maria Hill entered the room, her emotions held along her sleeve, baring responsibility and grief.

"We need to take him." It was time. The time for DEATH to envelope Fury both spiritually AND physically had arrived, to take him through the gates of the afterlife in body and soul. His soul, already gone, Maria to guide his body to join it. Steve walked over to Natasha, urging her to let Fury go on, to allow Agent Hill to take charge over him.

"Natasha!" The red Russian zipped out of the room, silent, COLD, and skeptical, with both Dolly and Steve following in haste. Dolly was sure, POSITIVE, Natasha would give them the cold shoulder for her to allow herself to swallow the night's events, however, her fierceness instead revealed itself as she whipped around on her heel to face Steve head-on.

"Why was Fury in your apartment?" Her tone spoke curiosity but her eyes burned of interrogation, craving an answer.

The two women saw through the Captain's lie, his pathetic excuse as to what he knew and did not.

"- I don't know."

Dolly opened to speak, interrupted by Brock Rumlow, intensive on his request _demand_ that Steve return to SHIELD ASAP. The agent's voice rumbled with a hint of something— _something_ Dolly didn't trust; SHIELD was compromised, and she had a feeling Rumlow was involved. And off Rogers was, called a 'terrible liar' before left alone to his duties. Dolly gave him a brief look, one of CONCERN, of COMPASSION, and gave a quick wave before lightly jogging after Natasha. Going with her meant a stronger sense of safety, away from the crashing waves that brewed up between the STRIKE team and Steve—he could handle that on his own, not with a " _weenie"_ that was Dolly Grey.

* * *

HUSH. HUSHED whispers slid between the space separating Dolly Grey and Natasha Romanoff—their speech, unrecognizable. Their emotions, HIDDEN away from the surface, lacking any answers a passerby may beg to get a hold on.

"…— 'll I got was… SHIELD is compromised."

"And Fury needed Steve to know. Makes sense…"

Their conversation was brief involving crucial intel, the remaining drabbling on about Fury's funeral, Nat inviting Dolly for a manicure day, and Dolly's potential choices for a place to live on her own. Medical personnel shuffled by eating their quick protein bar before another job, some jogging by in URGENCY to aid critical in-patients, and others gossiping to one another about who their main doctor was sleeping with. ALL OF IT, all of it could have been fabricated, to release any intense information between one another may mean the difference between being EATEN ALIVE or SAFE and sound.

Inside, a horrible, gnawing feeling pulled deep into Dolly's gut that continued to push her harder and harder—she felt sick. SHIELD was compromised. _Dirty._ The one group she thought would lead her to redemption was _contaminated, infected, and rotted_ from the start. Her head throbbed, inducing a sharp and hard pain as a warning of what may come if she continued getting deeper into this—she'd only get pain, suffering, and possibly lose Steve _again._ Too much di—

"You need to eat something; you've been buzzing all day. Let's get something from the vending machine." Natasha's stare analyzed Dolly, aware that her inner turmoil was stirring. The nurse looked up at Natasha and gave a brief smile—she trusted Nat more than anyone, 'cept for Steve.

"Alright."

The two strolled toward the vending machine in mutual but comfortable silence, going down the familiar hall where earlier actions took place. Dolly cringed at the thought, the blood, pushing it away to her darkest parts that never resurfaced without good reason. They approached the vending machine filled with Mentos, bagged pretzels, Lays, Double mint gum, Eclipse, Altoids, and Hubba Bubba with a unique prize sitting four packages back—the USB drive Fury thrusted into Steve's hand before on his road to death.

"Look at what we have here."

"Fury gave that to Steve, so wh—" _SHIELD COMPROMISED_ … _Don't… trust. Anyone._ "... Duh." Steve wouldn't dare bring it back to SHIELD, not leave it at risk, this was the next great place. He didn't know who to trust, it was an all-for-all playing field.

"Fury gave it to him. Why?"

"I don't know."

A vibration from Dolly's back pocket almost had her jump in surprise, unsuspecting of receiving a text now of day—it wouldn't be from Steve, it wasn't safe. They'd need to talk in person from now on. She slid her hand into her pocket, got out her mobile and swiped it to unlock it, bringing up the text:

 _SHIELD needs you. This is level one. Contact DOT;_ _ **Rogers, Steven is a fugitive of SHIELD.**_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, glad we're in _The Winter Soldier_ now! A little glimpse of the 'Ghost'. Countdown to his 'official' intro: 1 for Steve, 2 for Dolly. :) I am also reading _Endless Forms Most Beautiful_ by Sean Carroll, and it's quite interesting, I'm glad I got the time to pick it up for a read.

Thank you to everyone to those who favorited or put _Hush, Hush_ on follow. Hope everyone enjoyed, and please review!

 **Chapter 5 –** Freezer Burn

"They're coming for you. You guys need to _run— …_ _ **Steve?**_ _…Get out of there, NOW!_ "


End file.
